Page 112 of To Catch A Rogue
He searched her gaze. Shook his head. "You cursed little fool. This is where the House of Swans shows its teeth. You're not safe here. The auctions can get bloody."
"It's a good thing I brought my best knives then."
He snagged her arm as she turned to leave. "The highest bidder doesn't always win. Just remember that. Others can challenge for ownership, though it's often a fight to the death. If you mean to challenge, then you must intend to finish it."
Lark's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"
The curtains suddenly opened behind them, and a blue blood in a scarlet cloak wearing a white, eyeless face mark appeared from the alcove. "There you are," he said to Nikolai. "Come. Fyodor wishes to speak with you."
How long had he been there?
How much had he heard?
Nikolai tipped his head to her and said loudly, "Unfortunately, your proposition doesn't interest me. I wish you well, but I'm not interested."
Then he was gone, vanishing into the crowd as if she were a stranger.
"Well?" Charlie asked, as she slunk down the stairs.
She accepted the leash he held. "Nothing. He has no interest in me or my cause. But I also don't think his men attacked us last night."
Charlie's eyes softened. "Then he's not worthy of you, Lark. You have a family. You belong to us. And we will never forsake you."
The pair of them stared at each other.
Lark cleared her throat. "Have you been practicing, or are you getting better at being charming?"
He flashed her a quick smile, but there was a commotion happening on the stage. The music fell silent, except for a sudden burst of drums that caught everyone's attention.
A man appeared, removing his golden, expressionless mask as his teeth glittered in a smile. He introduced himself as Count Fyodor Berensky.
"And now, for the highlight of the evening," he cried, "our auction. Tonight we have a rare specimen all the way from England. Such gilded hair, and a sweet, innocent face. You'll be begging to corrupt...."
Lark started pushing through the crowd, her heart skittering madly as she saw Gemma and Obsidian moving into place.
"Ava,"Gemma mouthed at her, before craning her neck to see the stage.
"Can you see her?" she asked Charlie, who stood at least two inches over most of the crowd.
"Nothing as of— Hey!"
Something snatched at the leash on her wrist.
"Here he is, ladies and gentlemen," Berensky called as two burly footman started hauling Charlie toward the stage.
Lark shoved her way through the crowd after him, her heart crashing against her ribs. No! This wasn't supposed to happen like this. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "He's not for sale! He's mine!"
But someone hauled her out of the way, and she was helpless as Charlie was dragged onto the stage.
Chapter 21
"Jesus Christ." Gemma appeared at Lark's side. "They knew. They knew we were here."
Obsidian handed Gemma's leash to Lark. "Get her out of here," he told Gemma. "I'll start bidding."
Shouts echoed through the room. She heard a cry of five hundred rubles. Then six hundred.
"How much does Obsidian have on him?" Lark demanded. The bidding was going too high, too fast.
